


The Naming of Cats

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Series: Grew Shining White (and flashed like a star) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Anthropomorphic, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Crack Treated Seriously, Cultural Differences, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up on the pairing thing...this fic is set in the gen/recovery/figuring things out/getting together stage, but this is now a series, and the endgame is now Bucky/Steve/Tony. Sorry not sorry if this disappoints anybody.

Tony jolts to a stop halfway to the elevators, turning slowly around to stare back at the others. Steve and Barnes are still monopolizing one of the couches, Steve's big, dumb tail thumping the cushions whenever he so much as glances over at his bestie, but Natasha has slid into the spot Tony just vacated by Barnes' side, her cajoling smile so incongruent Tony can almost believe he imagined what he heard.

Almost, but not quite.

"Excuse me," he says flatly. "But what the fuck? You can't just--why the hell would you call him that?" he demands, furiously gratified to see Natasha still and straighten, no longer leaning into Barnes. Her ears tip back a fraction before she catches them, but they don't instantly snap tall and confident again. "Do we call you Thighs of Death? No.

"And you," he snaps, rounding on Steve, who starts, wide-eyed. "Why the hell are you okay with this? I thought you--" He shakes his head sharply. Steve is the _last_ person he thought would let someone get away with abusing Barnes to his face, but maybe he's been giving the asshole too much credit.

Steve stares at him blankly, and even Barnes seems nonplussed. Trading a glance with Natasha, who relaxes back into Barnes' side with a look of amused comprehension, Steve clears his throat and says, "Uh...that's his name. Actually."

Tony frowns. "What? Since when?"

***

Bucky catches up with Steve on the steps outside their school, leaning in--and, frustratingly, down--to butt the top of his head against the side of Steve's. "You're still coming over today, right?" Bucky says by way of greeting, unless the headbutt counts. "Your mom said it was okay?"

"You sure it's okay with your folks?" Steve asks, not wanting to be a nuisance. He hasn't known Bucky long, the Barnes family having moved only recently to Steve's side of town, but he already knows Bucky's not doing himself any favors by hanging out with him. Most people have stopped caring that Bucky's a wilder; he's a good guy, smart, everyone's first pick when a game gets started, though some people grumble that having him is an unfair advantage. That he prefers Steve's company the way he does confuses a lot more people than just Steve.

Bucky shrugs with an easy grin. "Eh. It's okay with Ma, which is the important thing."

Steve's face goes cold with embarrassment. "Your dad doesn't want me over?" He knows Bucky's sisters are all younger than them, the youngest little enough even a runt like Steve might be a threat, but he's not _like_ that. Just because the Barnes family is of the feline persuasion--

"Huh? Why wouldn't he?" Bucky asks, surprised. "Ma just kicked him out again the other day, is all. Between you and me, I think she figures four kids is enough," he adds with a grin, jogging Steve's shoulder with his own.

Steve blushes from collar to hairline, ears crumpling with embarrassment, and kicks Bucky in the ankle when Bucky laughs.

"Anyway, he'll be back in about a week, but until then I've got a house full of girls," Bucky says with a tragic grimace, lips pulling back from sharp teeth. "And speaking of girls, if the little 'uns start bugging you too much, just give 'em a whack and they'll back off. They're at that age."

Steve has no idea what Bucky means and is almost afraid to ask.

"Uh...sure, Buck," he says, meaning the exact opposite. He's not going to hit a _girl_ , much less one of Bucky's kid sisters.

It's not a long walk to the Barnes apartment, and for once Steve's lungs don't embarrass him right before he has to meet someone he wants to impress. Not that he actually believes that 'hindmost of the herd' bull some of the other kids have taken to whispering where he can hear them. Wilders aren't _animals_ , and Bucky's sat with him through more than one asthma attack, looking and smelling of nothing but panicked concern.

"Brace yourself," Bucky says at his apartment door, which does nothing for Steve's nerves at all.

The minute Bucky opens the door, there's a trio of wild shrieks from inside, three small projectiles hurling themselves at them from nowhere.

"Bucky!" his sisters shout, the tallest catching him around the middle, one careening into his leg and the last making a jump for his shoulders. Bucky nearly goes down under the onslaught, but he manages to catch the pouncer in one arm, laughing even as she starts chewing on his shoulder with a tiny, fierce growl.

"Girls," he says, dragging them with him as he walks through the door without slowing, "behave yourselves. We've got company."

The little girl gnawing on Bucky jerks her head up sharply, blue eyes fixing intently on Steve. "Who's that?"

"This is Steve--"

"Are you here to play?" the oldest interrupts before Bucky can introduce them properly.

"Not with you hooligans," Bucky says firmly. "Steve, this is Becca. The short stack on my leg is Carrie, and this little terror is Victoria." He bounces the baby of the family one-armed, but she just keeps staring at Steve, intent and unblinking. After a moment she holds both arms out towards him like she's asking to be picked up, and Steve shoots a startled look Bucky's way.

"Oh, no you don't, you little monster," Bucky huffs, setting her firmly down on her own two feet. "Fair and square, or not at all."

She nods solemnly and runs off further into the apartment, the other girls looking briefly between her retreating back and Steve before running off to join the youngest.

Bucky heaves a put-upon sigh and shakes his head. "Great. Anyway, you wanna check out my room?"

Bucky and the girls each have their own separate rooms, but there's evidence they were once one bigger room; Bucky's has a door to either side, one that exits onto the rest of the apartment and one that leads to the girls' territory. Steve can just make out a whispered conference from that direction, but the girls stay put instead of coming out to pester them the way he half-expected.

Steve foolishly thinks they've lost all interest in him until twenty minutes later, lying side-by-side on Bucky's floor laughing at one of the stories in his well-thumbed collection of comics, when a small, determined streak leaps on his back and bites down hard on the too-thin meat strung between his neck and shoulder.

He yelps more out of surprise than pain, though the littlest girl's teeth are needle-sharp. She lets up the instant he flinches, staring at him wide-eyed. If she's used to attacking her brother, he doesn't blame her for her surprise; Bucky's a much sturdier article than he is.

"Victoria!" Bucky scolds, sitting up to peel her off Steve's back. "What did I tell you?"

"Fair and square," she parrots back adorably, ducking her head to peer up at Bucky through her lashes.

Bucky scowls, but Steve can tell he's trying hard not to laugh. "No, I meant--rrr," he grumbles, shooting Steve an apologetic look. "We don't hunt company, remember?"

"Not hunting," she insists, chin jutting out stubbornly. " _Playing_."

"Yeah, yeah. Go play with your sisters, squirt. They need the practice more than Steve does," Bucky orders, ruffling Victoria's hair. She bites his arm for his trouble, but not hard enough to break the skin. With a rough lick at her brother's wrist, she's off and running again, diving back into the girls' side of the divided room without looking back.

"Sorry about that," Bucky says sheepishly. "Like I said, they're at that age."

"It's okay," Steve says, getting it all of a sudden and maybe just a little charmed. "I've, uh, never been the quarry before, is all." None of the other kids had thought he was worth catching back then, even when he was well enough to play in the first place.

"They don't mean anything by it," Bucky says earnestly, which tells Steve that Bucky's heard the whispers too, wondering what a healthy lynx kid could possibly see in a sickly runt like Steve.

"'Course not," Steve says with a snort, flopping back down on his belly and turning the comic back a page, what he just read half-forgotten in his startlement. "It's fine. They're just kids."

"Famous last words," Bucky mutters, but he settles down again beside Steve, keeping only half an ear on the door.

The next time one of Bucky's sisters tries to surprise them with a sneak attack, Bucky rolls to his feet in a crouch that uncoils _over_ Steve, ending in Bucky pouncing Becca to the floor. He doesn't bite, just digs his fingers into her ribs until she's shrieking with laughter, Bucky laughing too.

Watching them, Steve can't help smiling at the ridiculous picture they make, Bucky's stubby tail lashing for all it's worth as Becca tries to kick him loose.

It's all the distraction Victoria needs to land square on his shoulders once again with a triumphant yowl.

***

It's a few months later when Steve's mother sits him down after school one day with a worried frown. She looks tired, and he's sure the reason she's upset has something to do with the note his teacher sent home, but he honestly can't think of a single thing he's done lately for anyone to complain about. He's even been getting into fewer fights, Bucky having made it more than clear that he'll back Steve up against any odds.

Sitting down beside him on the loveseat, his mother takes his hand in hers with a tight, reassuring grip that just leaves him more confused. "Honey," she says slowly, "you know I'm proud of how you've always settled your own affairs, but you know you can always come to me, right?"

"'Course," Steve says, searching his mother's face for some clue to make sense of her apprehension. "Why? What's wrong?"

Her smile is strangely sympathetic as she gives his hand a brief squeeze. "I know boys like to roughhouse, but...your new friend. James."

"Bucky?" His heart skips a beat with a stronger lurch than usual. Has something happened to Bucky?

"If he's playing _too_ rough, you don't have to put up with it. I know he may not be able to help it; it's hard to control your instincts when you're young--"

"Huh?" Steve asks helplessly. Bucky and him...they don't exactly roughhouse, unless a heavy arm across Steve's thin shoulders and gruff, one-armed hugs count.

His mom blinks, suddenly unsure. "The note from your teacher," she explains. "She said she saw a bite on your neck. At the scruff line. There was blood...?"

Steve claps a hand to the back of his neck in startlement even as relief floods through him. "Oh! That was probably Victoria...I think. She forgets she's not playing with Bucky sometimes," he says with a shrug, "and she's only four, so she's got the sharpest teeth."

"She's practicing her hunting on you?" his mom asks, her expression flickering between renewed worry and amusement. Amusement wins out in the end.

"All of them, actually," Steve admits shyly. "I mean, all of his sisters. It's okay," he's quick to add. "I know what you said about instincts, but I wouldn't hurt 'em, honest."

His mother smiles, big and proud. "I know you wouldn't, honey. And you're sure you don't mind?"

"Nah," he says with a grin, hunching one shoulder. "They're kind of cute."

His mother laughs. "You know, there's a word for dogs who spend too much time around cats," she tells him ruefully.

Steve bites his lip. "Yeah?"

She nods. "Tough," she says with a grin, and ruffles his ears as he tries futilely to duck away.

***

He doesn't really get the whole picture at first. He's never had feline friends of any stripe--heck, he's never had _friends_ before--but he does know what it means when Bucky throws himself down in the seat beside Steve and leans over to rub the side of his jaw against Steve's shoulder. After the first few times, it just becomes a thing Bucky does, like saying hi or holding the door open for a lady. And it's not like there's a huge line of people queueing up to claim a piece of Steve for their own pack, or pride, or...whatever it is lynxes have. So he lets it go on for years and doesn't realize there's anything odd about it until Becca, thirteen now and cute as a button, tries to do it too.

Bucky _growls_ at her, low and deadly, lips peeling back from his teeth in a snarl so fierce Becca actually freezes in place, wide-eyed.

"Uh...Buck?" Steve asks hesitantly, half afraid to move himself. His eyes flick back and forth between brother and sister, so he doesn't miss it when Becca's eyes narrow fractionally. Slowly, deliberately, she leans over the rest of the way and rests her chin on Steve's shoulder--not rubbing, but still a blatant challenge.

"Backbreaker Barnes!" Bucky barks immediately. One fraction of Steve's brain wonders if Bucky picked that up from him.

"What did you just say?" he asks instead, bewildered.

Becca snorts but lifts her head, folding her skinny arms across her chest. "You sounded just like Mom then," she taunts, tossing her hair back over her shoulder before flouncing out of the room, tufted ears flat to her skull.

"Pfft," Bucky spits, glaring after Becca as she disappears. "She's just being a brat."

"But--Back...what?"

Bucky tilts his head with a quizzical look as he glances back to Steve. "What? It's her name. Haven't you...? Huh. You've never heard her name before?"

"Her--but I thought her name was Becca," Steve says, floundering.

"Well, yeah--that's her civvie name. Backbreaker's her birth name, though."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't get it. Do you all have two names?" When Bucky nods, he asks, "Why?"

Bucky scrubs a hand over the back of his neck with a sheepish look. "Eh...you know. It's, uh...I mean, they're traditional, you know? Our birth names. Only come to find out, it makes civvies a bit uncomfortable if you introduce yourself as Gorebiter. Makes 'em wonder if you're going to live up to it the minute they turn their backs." Bucky shrugs. "So when you go looking for a job and they ask you your name, you tell 'em George instead."

"George? Wait--your dad's name is _Gorebiter_?"

Bucky spreads his hands wide with a rueful smile. "Traditional."

"Wait, so--what--can I ask?" Steve stops himself quickly. "I've never heard anything about this, so if it's supposed to be a secret or something--"

"Nah, it's fine. I mean, we don't use 'em much outside of family, but it's not a secret. Like my ma, she goes by Winnower--"

"Oh my God," Steve says faintly. He can _see_ it if he thinks back a century or two, can see her culling a herd or a warren with brutal efficiency until only the strongest are left.

"And that's pretty accurate, I'm sure you're thinking," Bucky agrees with a grin. "Becca, you just heard. Uh...Carrie is actually Carnage, which also fits way too well."

"And Victoria?"

"Vicious Tormenter. Probably jinxed the rest of us for life with that one."

"You're not kidding," Steve says with a fake shudder. "So what about you?"

Bucky gives him a rueful smile. "Murder."

Steve stares. "Murder."

"Uh...tradition?" Bucky's shoulders pull in a little in embarrassment, but Steve can't even parse that. Just...no. What?

"How on earth do you get from Murder to _James_?" he blurts out. "That doesn't make any sense."

Bucky huffs a laugh, a little too relieved for Steve's peace of mind. It's not like he doesn't know Bucky's _different_ , but he's the same as anybody else in all the ways that truly matter. "Yeah, my mom wanted to call me something that wasn't so old-fashioned, but my grandpap's name was Murder, so Dad won that one. She picked out my civvie name, though, and she figured the more normal it sounded, the better off I'd be."

"Huh. So are you Murder at home, then?" Steve asks, wondering if he's been using the wrong name all along.

"If you ask my ma? Absolutely," Bucky says with a grin. "She's about the only one who still uses it, to be honest, and then it's usually _full names_. Yeow."

Steve nods in devout agreement. If he never hears 'Steven Grant Rogers' again, it'll be too soon.

Still.

He sort of wishes he had a hidden name of his own that he could trade for Bucky's. Something just for family, so that when he invited Bucky to use it, he'd know exactly what that meant.

***

"Wait," Tony says, staring at Barnes in frank consternation. "You mean your name is _literally_ Murder."

Barnes is giving him that look again. The one that asks where Tony was for the entire conversation that just took place, and also that the feline nation really should rise up one day and claim its spot at the pinnacle of the evolutionary chain, provided it doesn't interfere with naptime.

"So all those times I called you Murderkitten...."

Barnes flicks an ear. "Why did you think I answered to it?"

Tony throws his hands in the air. "Because answering to my nicknames is part of the Tony Stark Experience? Come on! How was I supposed to know? Seriously!"

Barnes hunches a shoulder--the one not propping Natasha up--clearly unconcerned.

"Wait," Steve pipes up suddenly, eyes flicking from Barnes to Natasha and back. "You call him Murder? I thought that was a family thing." His eyes haven't made it all the way to soulful yet, but his ears are drooping, his tail lying limp against the couch cushions, and Tony sort of wants to go over there and mash those two idiots' faces together until they figure it out.

Natasha beats him to it.

"James," she says very clearly, "do you mind if Steve calls you by your family name? You know. _Like you're family_?"

Steve flushes to his hairline, but Barnes' ears perk straight up. "No," he says, briefly crushing Steve's entire world; Tony legitimately wants to go over and ruffle the poor guy's ears. It's mortifying. "I don't mind," he adds almost shyly, volunteering the reassurance even though he's still in the habit of answering exactly what he's asked and no more.

There goes the tail again, utterly predictable, and Steve lighting up with a grin.

Tony's not going to ask for equal permission, even in jest, because that would just be pathetic.

But maybe he'll take a page from Steve's book and get Natasha to ask for him.

**Author's Note:**

> "Murder" is actually Buchanan's real name from ["Winter"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6178246) \- Young!Steve asked his name, Buchanan told him, and Young!Steve said, "OMG, I can't call you that in public, they'll run you out of town! I'm going to call you Buchanan, okay?" And Murder shrugged and said, "Call me what you like; _you_ know my name." :3
> 
> And so, because I mostly write in multiverses, you can pretty much expect any feline!Bucky to be operating under an alias, because yes, his name is Murder. XD


End file.
